By The Newsroom

Published 8th Aug 2023, 11:33 BST

Updated 8th Aug 2023, 15:03 BST

Club Life *****

Summerhall (Venue 26) until 27 August

“Clubs are places we go to grow into ourselves,” says Fred Deakin early in this very personal 150-minute journey into a particular period in clubbing – most of which took place, conveniently enough, in Edinburgh. Although he’s been retired as a club promoter for two decades (the time since has been spent as one-half of Mercury Prize-nominated production duo Lemon Jelly, setting up a graphic design business in London and lecturing in the subject), the years fall away as Deakin gives us his personal tour of clubland as he experienced it.

He doesn’t take us to the Hacienda, Studio 54 or Wigan Casino. Instead, we arrive at his own style-magazine influenced The Blue at the old Gilded Balloon in the 1980s; the eclectic Thunderball; the so-called “worst club in the world” Misery; house-heavy Devil Mountain; easy listening paradise Going Places; and Impotent Fury, where the music played depends entirely on chance.

Interspersed with his own friendly, revealing monologues, each is revived when Deakin takes to the decks, the lights go down, the quintet of lively young dancers arrives on the dancefloor stage and the audience is invited to join them. No musical spoilers, but it starts with the Slits and features a pounding house section, visiting Rick Astley on the way.

It’s part autobiographical monologue, part dance show, part performance art, and at its core even a very odd jukebox musical. It’s also a damn good night out, best enjoyed with friends and (if you indulge) a drink at the in-room bar. Yet it goes even deeper than that.

Deakin describes his encounter with leukaemia a quarter of a century ago and his realisation of mortality in the present, and time folds around the youthful dancers and this well-travelled nostalgic, revealing the golden thread of generational bonding and solidarity inspired by the dancefloor. Few Fringe shows this year will be more inspiring or perfectly executed. David Pollock

Nail Polish ****Greenside @ Infirmary Street (Venue 236) until 12 August

There’s a pertinent scene in this new company’s moving play, about a group of LGBTQ+ friends and their interconnecting relationships, when they watch the film ‘Pride’ and speculate whether it, set in the 1980s and now nearly ten years old, represents them. Were things ever like this? Are they different now? In some ways yes, in others no, seems to be the answer – and the exuberant young cast, who are clearly having a great time at what may be their first Fringe, animate the ghosts of the many other young companies through the decades, who have told the similar-but-different stories of their generations, of friendships, relationships, homophobic discrimination and hope for a better future.

In the cosy comfort of a shared flat, the group congregate and sometimes take refuge from an alternative reality outside. With their open communication and safe spaces, they create a world of love and support that these days might be described as ‘woke’ – as indeed the whole play might – but the characters’ care and compassion for one another is heartfelt rather than tokenistic, and it’s through the diversity of their characters rather than their sexualities and genders that writers Aaron Govey and Daisy Parker find their drama. The story centres around New Year’s Eve, a time for fresh starts, but when instead new gay couple Joe and Sam are attacked on the tube. The unseen aftermath behind the too-familiar headlines of such an event is authentically captured by the dynamic ensemble of performers, as Joe and Sam argue about what’s “too gay” or “not gay enough”, while cool charismatic Becky tries to hold together both party and home life, and non-binary Justin bemoans the loss of the pink and fluffy more-binary Britney. Emotive music feels unnecessary, with the spectrum of different relationships depicted separately but also together speaking for themselves. Sally StottModeration ****Greenside @ Infirmary Street (Venue 236) until 12 August

Both luminous and illuminating, Moderation follows two former social-media moderators (A, played by Ellen Trevaskiss, and B, played by Michael Gillett) in the beginning stages of a lawsuit against Facebook on grounds of psychological injury. Rooted in real accounts, the play dramatises the inhumane working conditions sustaining this internet giant, and by extension, platforms of a similar standing.

Though slow in pace at the outset, Trevaskiss and Gillett’s performances are superlative. The individual and combined perspectives of the characters (B contends with severe memory loss, while A cannot forget a single, searing detail), is handled with the utmost sensitivity, creating a tangible sense of their shared history as colleagues and as friends. Flashbacks mimic the behaviour of trauma in the body, and these are folded seamlessly into the action as A and B recount their personal experiences in preparation for formal testimony.

Together, they reenact their induction and training, mocking Cruella, their supervisor (who acts as an embodiment of the aforementioned corporation, but who is perhaps a little clichéd in her villainy) all the while. The pair also recall their respective ‘breaking points’ - events witnessed that, for them, went beyond all bearing, and for which (as their extremity went unheeded), the two received no psychological support.

That A and B are able to laugh and reminisce, in spite of it all, is incredibly moving. Contrary to its title, Moderation is a play to get lost in - so deft and exacting is Rebekah King’s writing, so expert is her portrait of post-traumatic stress - as she chronicles the suffering incurred by her characters as a result of their repeated exposure to the deepest, most unconscionable corners of the internet. Josephine Balfour-OattsFour Letter Word **theSpace @ Surgeons Hall (Venue 53) until 11 AugustThere's a necessarily jagged, discomfiting aspect to this solo autobiographical show from Ella Wernham-Clark. It's more an interesting way to present her heartfelt songs than a satisfying piece of theatre but her music is raw and honest. Based on her own experiences this is an account of domestic violence but, in truth, this aspect only comes into sharper focus towards the end. The earlier stages of the show are designed to evoke feelings of depersonalisation which is - quite understandably - distancing. As effective as Wernham-Clark's songs are they really would benefit from more context but instead they're surrounded by static. Rory Ford

The Lady of the Loch **Greenside @ Infirmary Street (Venue 236) until 12 AugustIt’s rare to encounter a genuinely excellent performance in a weak play, so on that basis, Kit Laveri who plays the eponymous Loch Ness monster in Dougal Thomson’s talky new eco-fable probably deserves some kind of award. This production from Edinburgh-based company Simply Surreal is too often limited to a very dull back and forth as property developers look to build housing by the loch. When Nessie finally appears it’s a different matter. Sheathed in a green tartan skirt and sporting an impressive make-up job - and a very broad Scots accent - Laveri mines the script for every possible laugh and nuance. She can’t quite obscure the fact that this is ultimately a stodgy, stagey endeavour but it’s a heroic effort. Rory Ford

Edinburgh Fringe theatre reviews: Club Life | Nail Polish | Moderation | Four Letter Word | The Lady of the Loch